


and so the ghost whispered

by markerlimes (sunmi)



Category: EXO (Band)
Genre: Blood, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-08-20
Updated: 2014-08-20
Packaged: 2018-03-01 22:57:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,540
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2790800
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sunmi/pseuds/markerlimes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Spy!au + Minor powers!au<br/>Chanyeol is on recon, settling in with a fake wife and everything, when Kyungsoo shows up on a muggy Saturday morning in front of Chanyeol’s cute little cul-de-sac to tell him that EXO’s skeleton in the closet is not so dead after all.</p><p>warnings: violence, mentions of blood</p><p>for chingulinexchange 2014!</p>
            </blockquote>





	and so the ghost whispered

 

  
Chanyeol is on recon, settling in with a fake wife and everything, when Kyungsoo shows up on a muggy Saturday morning in front of Chanyeol’s cute little cul-de-sac in a dark Sedan.

It’s not a good sign, but nevertheless Chanyeol is pleased to see him. It’s not often he gets a glimpse of Kyungsoo in the daylight, let alone on his greener-than-naturally-green lawn in the middle of suburbia. It’s uncharacteristic for Kyungsoo to be so careless, arousing suspicion easily with his sharp suit and even sharper strides.

Gayeon is the one who answers the door and she knows enough about Chanyeol’s line of work to not scream and alert the neighbors when Kyungsoo drags himself out of his car banged up and bleeding onto their front porch. He’s dripping blood on the welcome mat when Chanyeol arrives to greet him with his toothbrush still in his mouth. The gossip at church tomorrow will be crazy and Chanyeol can’t imagine what story he’ll have to pull out of his ass this time.

For the time being, Chanyeol doesn’t care. There’s a more urgent problem than that currently bleeding on his pristine porch. A little bit of toothpaste dribbles down the corner of his mouth as he sizes up Kyungsoo.

“Well, you look like shit,” he says. It’s true and judging by the way he isn’t shot on the spot, Kyungsoo appreciates his honesty.

Kyungsoo lets out a sigh in reply stepping in finally, as Chanyeol fights the grin on his face with little success. He limps in, eyeing Chanyeol’s questionable wall décor and frowns ever so slightly.

“Welcome home,” Chanyeol declares and carefully, when Kyungsoo isn’t looking, flips the welcome mat over.

 

 

 

 

Gayeon helps them set up a stool in the kitchen, the only area of the house that is properly tiled so that blood could be washed out easily. It’s bright in the kitchen too, sunlight streaming in from the windows and in that light, Kyungsoo looks maybe a hundred times more injured than Chanyeol originally thought.

The blood is dark enough, dried enough that it makes Kyungsoo look passably okay, but upon closer inspection Chanyeol can see how pale and bloodless his complexion is. He must have been desperate to come find Chanyeol of all people out here in the middle of suburbia.

“It’s okay now,” Chanyeol whispers softly. “I’ve got you.” Kyungsoo’s lashes flutter up in response, shooting Chanyeol a grateful look.

“Yeah, yeah,” he scoffs, but it’s reassuring in tone.

Chanyeol is careful, unbelievable so as he cuts off what’s left of Kyungsoo’s bloodstained shirt beneath his suit jacket and helps him peel it back to assess the damage.

It’s been a long time since Chanyeol has seen Kyungsoo in person. He’s skinnier than before, face a little sharper, but still round. His brows are furrowed down in careful thought as Chanyeol gingerly blots at the blood dried there. There are dark bruises, scattered all over his left shoulder and Chanyeol runs his thumb across it idly to wipe off the crusted blood.

It’s been an even longer time since Chanyeol has seen him shirtless, slim shoulders and pretty collarbones peeking out beneath blankets. Beneath all the blood and grime, Chanyeol can see Kyungsoo’s moles, the same ones Chanyeol had traced his tongue across, connecting them with a bridge of soft kisses and bites. The injuries stretched across that same skin makes Chanyeol cold with rage even though he knows he has no right to feel that way.

Kyungsoo doesn’t flinch, never has never will, when Chanyeol douses his shoulder with hydrogen peroxide. The liquid hisses, coiling along Kyungsoo’s wounds like an angry snake. Chanyeol takes a clean towel and collects the run off with gentle dabs. The blood washes off smoothly and aside from a few winces and glares, Kyungsoo suffers through it all like a martyr.

There are makeshift stitches on the worst cut, traces of Kyungsoo’s own neat handiwork, holding the skin together. The thread is strong enough to hold Kyungsoo’s shoulder together for now, but the real damage is probably deeper than that. Chanyeol makes a face in response to the grisly sight and Kyungsoo smacks him lightly.

“I’m still bleeding, you know,” he says a little impatient and Chanyeol rushes to pull out his own sewing kit. Even after all this time, the idea of needles, skin, and thread still makes him a little queasy, but for Kyungsoo’s sake he holds a steady expression. His fingers don’t shake anymore when they slide across Kyungsoo’s shoulder to stitch the flaps of skin back together and pull the needle through them.

“So,” Chanyeol starts, letting the needle slide cleanly through. “How have you been? I take it Istanbul was a bust?”

Kyungsoo peers at him carefully over the line of his shoulder before turning back around to stare out the window. The light traces its way softly across Kyungsoo’s features, highlighting his full lips and bruised cheeks and Chanyeol can’t stop his fingers from brushing the corner of his mouth, swiping a flake of dried blood off.

Kyungsoo wets his lips, turning away.

Chanyeol waits.

“We found the whistleblower,” Kyungsoo says slowly. It’s not much of a conversation starter, but it gets Chanyeol’s attention from the get-go.

“Like found found, or _found_ him?” Chanyeol asks, settling down behind the counter to rinse the blood off his hands. The marble is cool to the touch, sparking goosebumps along his forearms as Kyungsoo looks at him thoughtfully. He rolls his injured shoulder back gently, gritting his teeth in pain.

“Found him,” he replies vaguely, dabbing a napkin at his waist to stop the blood from reaching his pants. Chanyeol watches him stretch his injured arm out gingerly and surprisingly enough Chanyeol’s shoddy stitching job holds.

“So he’s dead then,” Chanyeol puts simply, but Kyungsoo shakes his head with a huff. For Kyungsoo’s sake, Chanyeol tries to not look too amused or impressed.

“He got away,” Kyungsoo admits grudgingly. His eyes narrow as if daring Chanyeol to say something. By now his line of work should have taught Chanyeol how to keep his mouth shut, but it’s hard not to fall into old habits when Kyungsoo of all people offers a chance like this on a silver platter.

“So if he’s not dead, are you telling me someone found you in the nest and kicked the shit out of you before you shot him?” Chanyeol laughs. Kyungsoo rolls his eyes, good-humoredly for what it’s worth before Chanyeol continues. “Well that has to be first and frankly I hope you didn’t kill him because I wanna learn a thing or two from this guy first.”

At that, Kyungsoo flinches and Chanyeol blinks in confusion, smoothing a hand over his own shoulder. This kind of shit talk between them has always been a thing no matter who was injured and how badly. It’s almost a maladaptive method of coping if Chanyeol’s honest.

Kyungsoo looks shocked though, lips moving but not forming words and Chanyeol feels a spike of guilt in his chest.

“Never mind then,” Chanyeol starts tossing the bloody towel off to the side. “We don’t have to talk about it now. Do you want to go see the garden? Gayeon and I have a huge ass garden in the back-”

“It’s him,” Kyungsoo replies tonelessly. “He’s been alive this whole time.”

 

 

 

 

In the summer of 2010, Chanyeol was arrested for two accounts of arson, destruction of private property for at least a couple billion of won, and a dozen or some traffic violations. He’d waltzed out of his last job, gleeful, the smell of ash clinging to him like perfume. It felt right to burn, to send everything up in flames and feel the heat against his cheeks and in that euphoria Chanyeol got careless.

It was the jay-walking that did him in. They connected the arson to him later which turned out to be a good thing in the long run.

They didn’t put him in jail though, didn’t even sit him in the juvenile detention center. Instead, they brought him to Joonmyun.

Joonmyun had Chanyeol’s files, his extensive records of bombing and arson in one hand, but he was already shaking Chanyeol’s hand with his other.

“Welcome aboard,” he said with a smile that was perfectly rehearsed. 10 other times to be exact.

“Twelve,” Joonmyun announced with a proud smile on his face as he pulled Chanyeol into the room. Two elite units of six. Kids with potential, a hint of supernatural power that could be harnessed into something great.

The head operatives had been uneasy. Why would they trust these kids anyways, but Joonmyun pulled some strings, worked some upper class privilege, whatever. Chanyeol still doesn’t know what he did that day, but whatever it was, it worked.

At the end of summer, operation EXO was well underway. In 10 years’ time, they might have saved the planet.

But they never did.

In 2014, just four years after EXO was formed- in circumstances just as mysterious as their formation- they were decommissioned.

Their powers were confined and monitored as the remaining members got shuffled around purposefully stationed away from each other. The whispers on the streets were all speculative about their powers growing too strong, that if they continued they would have destroyed the world or at least each other. Or maybe they already had.

But Kyungsoo’s read the reports. He knows.

Chanyeol knows too. He was there.

 

 

 

 

Years of espionage keep Chanyeol’s face unresponsive. It’s more of a reflex than an actual reaction and Kyungsoo knows that too.

“Are you sure?” Chanyeol says tensely after a moment and it’s useless to hide anything from Kyungsoo who reads him like an open book, picking apart the hurt and betrayal layered in his voice.

He nods and Chanyeol watches him get off of the now bloody stool, still shaky and limping. He makes his way over to Chanyeol, fingers searching for purchase on Chanyeol’s shoulder softly like Chanyeol’s the one injured.

“It was him, Chanyeol,” he breaths, slow and steady. He’s so so pale from blood loss but his eyes are clear as day as they search Chanyeol’s carefully. “I saw _him_ with my own eyes.”

Chanyeol shakes his head on instinct even as Kyungsoo loops his good arm around him carefully and presses into his side comfortingly in a light hug.

It’s not that Kyungsoo doesn’t care. It’s not that he’s not affected by this either. It’s just, he just wasn’t there that day. He doesn’t have to think, hasn’t had to live under the pinning weight of ‘what if I had been faster, or stronger, could I have saved him?’ Chanyeol has spent too many nights pondering the outcomes only to wake up to the haunting smell of burnt feathers and the image of _him_ falling down from the sky again.

“I get it,” Kyungsoo says softly and Chanyeol shakes his head, again and again until Kyungsoo takes his head in his good hand and presses their cheeks together in silence.

They stay like that for a while, even as the blood from Kyungsoo’s shoulder pools down the dip of his back to stain his pants and Chanyeol sees him swaying slightly from exhaustion.

“And then what?” Chanyeol croaks out finally, his throat feeling like sandpaper.

“I don’t know,” he admits, sighing. “I need more information, but I’ve already contacted someone to help us out with that.”

Chanyeol perks up, his voice uneasy. “All the files are gone. We were decommissioned; you can’t find anything about him. Headquarters won’t even allow inquiries about us anymore.”

“I’ve contacted a hacker for help,” Kyungsoo says plainly and Chanyeol’s eyes go wider. “That’s even worse!”

“He’s a _hacker_ ,” Kyungsoo replies through a hiss as he stretches his arm out to put it through a sleeve. Chanyeol stares at him still lost. Kyungsoo quirks an eyebrow at him and mimes sticking his finger in a socket.

“Oh, that hacker.” Chanyeol says finally in realization. He’s not overly fond of workplace reunions, but he’s always been making exceptions for Jongdae anyways.

 

 

 

 

The bar is dimly lit, sort of grimy and straight out of a tryhard Hollywood set. Chanyeol figures Kyungsoo would pick a place like this for an undercover meetup.

“An agent, a hacker and a top-notch sniper walk into a bar,” Jongdae begins cattishly. “I could make a great joke out of this.”

“You can make a great joke out of anything.” Chanyeol says back and it’s true. Jongdae flushes with the praise and jokingly head-butts Chanyeol’s shoulder. It’s been years since they’ve last seen each other, but to Chanyeol’s glee, Jongdae hasn’t grown an inch.

“I’ve missed you,” Jongdae pouts, swirling his beer in one hand. “Why don’t you return my calls anymore?”

“Recon,” Chanyeol answers simply, because in their profession those two syllables could cover almost anything. Jongdae nods in understanding and turns to face Kyungsoo.

“Kyungsoo-yah,” Jongdae smiles warmly and he pulls Kyungsoo straight into a hug, ignoring the sniper’s hand extended out stiffly. “God this feels like 2010 all over again.” Jongdae exclaims happily, beaming before he remembers. There’s a hint of somberness that settles between them as Jongdae takes another careful look around.

“He’s not here,” Kyungsoo says softly and Jongdae lets out a little chuckle. Chanyeol takes a seat, shoulders slumping. He hadn’t expected them to get to this topic so quickly.

“Where is Baekhyun these days?” Jongdae says lightly like he’s waiting for a joke. A joke in the form of Baekhyun popping out of the woodwork of the dingy bar with drinks in hand for all of them.

“Here and there,” Kyungsoo answers softly and then, “he’s getting married soon.”

“Ahh,” Jongdae speculates, trying to affect surprise. “You can’t blame him for that.” He’s taking the news surprisingly well, but knowing Jongdae he’d probably been keeping tabs on all of them.

Kyungsoo clears his throat. A clear signal to move onto business.

“So,” Jongdae says giving Kyungsoo a once over. His eyes narrow in concern as he sees the bruises peaking out Kyungsoo’s collar. “I hear you ran up against a ghost in Istanbul.”

Kyungsoo looks a little relieved that Jongdae is already in the loop. It had been hard enough for him to spit out the story between clenched teeth back at Chanyeol’s place and he had been under pain meds the whole time.

“The question is,” Jongdae says, leaning in carefully. “What do you need me to do?”

Kyungsoo nods and moves in closer when Chanyeol notices something out of the corner of his eye. They’re not quite alone. The bar although dingy is located near a popular district. It should be bustling with activity, filled with lonely business men and buxom women looking for a good time.

But there’s no one else in the bar save for a figure lounging in the corner. It’s so ridiculously suspicious it makes Chanyeol chuckle. Who needs to feel paranoid when your enemies line themselves up for show?

Kyungsoo stiffens up next to him. He feels it too.

“Jongdae,” he redirects calmly. “Who have you told about our meeting?”

It hurts a little bit that they have to be this way to each other now, but paranoia is a healthy habit in their line of work. Old ties and alliances are nothing but a notch on the belt for good karma and the first list of suspects to sort through when an operation inevitably heads south.

“No one unfriendly,” Jongdae replies, still at ease. He takes another swig of his beer, before answering. “ _You_ didn’t use the line I set up all those years ago to contact me in the first place. There’s no way anyone as popular as us wouldn’t be getting a few unwanted visits.”

Kyungsoo clenches his fist as Jongdae continues a little more seriously. “Kyungsoo. The real question is…who do you have breathing down your neck this time?”

Kyungsoo’s jaw tightens as more figures settle into the corner of the bar. They’re ants, low ranking mooks at best, but Chanyeol doesn’t like taking chances when Kyungsoo is already injured and Jongdae likely hasn’t seen combat since the day they were decommissioned.

“I wish I could say I didn’t know,” Kyungsoo breathes, settling back in his chair.

“You’re injured,” Chanyeol says under his breath, leaning over the table to grab the salt shaker. The movement hides Kyungsoo from view long enough for him to draw his gun out.

“I can still shoot,” he says casually, flexing out his injured arm. Kyungsoo’s eyes are cold and deadly in an effort to mask the pain behind them. The man closest to them shifts suddenly and Chanyeol leaps into action.

The fire burning in his veins hasn’t been used for years, but Chanyeol doesn’t need it as he lunges to grab the man by his throat. Something hard and blunt crashes into the side of Chanyeol’s skull and it send him rolling onto the floor as Kyungsoo covers for him.

One swift move and the man falls to the ground, unconscious. A bang behind him means that there’s back up outside and Chanyeol draws a blade out of his pocket. Kyungsoo ducks for cover behind an upturned table and returns fire with much better accuracy.

Kyungsoo’s gun is smoking and just the scent of it puts Chanyeol at ease. It reminds him that Kyungsoo has handled himself for years, maybe never this broken up and injured, but he’s still a formidable opponent.

Jongdae on the other hand makes Chanyeol worried. Chanyeol pushes him back to hide behind the bar as more figures swarm in.

“Stay there,” Chanyeol hisses. Jongdae is effectively useless without his powers and god knows how long it’s been since he’s tapped into them. Jongdae glares, a stubborn angle to his jaw, but he ducks behind the wooden structure dutifully.

Kyungsoo is sniping down figure after figure, but even then he can barely contain the group of hostiles advancing towards them.

“There’s too many of them,” Chanyeol says, gritting his teeth. A bullet ricochets off the ceiling above raining splinters down on them.

“We have to get out of here,” Kyungsoo hisses. His gun clicks empty and Chanyeol knows he’s probably panicking on the inside.

Jongdae eyes are dark as he suddenly grabs them both one in each hand and drags them behind him. Before Chanyeol can shout a warning, Jongdae braces his hand against the wall and the entire building _pulses_.

The light bulbs in the entire bar shatter as Jongdae surges the electricity up to the limit. He shakes, hair sticking up on end. The lightning leaves his body like a torrent with Chanyeol and Kyungsoo grounded to him as he pours years of pent up electricity into the building’s very structure.

There’s silence. A small hiss of burnt fabric and then Jongdae is pushing them towards the exit. They step over bodies by the dozen and Chanyeol can tell by the way Jongdae isn’t fussed that they’re still alive.

“You got pretty badass,” Chanyeol applauds and Jongdae runs a hand through his static-ridden hair, brushing it back dramatically.

“Thank you, thank you ladies,” Jongdae bows. Kyungsoo’s lips are a thin line as he yanks Jongdae back with his good arm.

“What did you just?” Kyungsoo starts but Jongdae continues pulling them both towards the entrance of the bar with an uncharacteristic urgency. By now Headquarters have probably noticed that Jongdae has broken protocol with the use of his powers and it’ll be any moment before they show up to apprehend him.

Instead of the flashing lights, there’s a black, non-descript car waiting for them outside. Chanyeol’s eyes go wide as Kyungsoo freezes up beside him. “Did you call for back up?”

Kyungsoo shakes his head, steadying his injured arm to a defensive position.

“I did,” Jongdae says loudly, pushing them both aside to tap at the window. The window rolls down low enough for Chanyeol to see Jongin in the driver’s seat looking tired and entirely too at ease in comparison to the nervous jumpy kid Chanyeol still has in mind when he thinks of Jongin.

“How?” Chanyeol asks, but the answer is revealed the moment Lu Han’s voice comes through the speaker system.

“You should have heard him screaming,” comes the sigh sounding as old as Lu Han looks on a bad day. It brings unexpected warmth through Chanyeol. Lu Han can’t turn his power off and the most Headquarters can do to control him is by monitoring his telekinesis. They have no reign what so ever on his telepathy however. Lu Han’s telepathy however has a limited range and Chanyeol wonders briefly if Jongdae had invited old friends after all.

The possibility doesn’t occur to Kyungsoo, who keeps swaying in place a little disoriented. Chanyeol puts a hand on his shoulder to steady him and isn’t surprised in the least when Kyungsoo brushes him off.

“Well then let’s get going,” Kyungsoo commands. It’s hot when he uses his voice like that, Chanyeol thinks.

“I call shotgun,” Jongdae smirks, sliding in front before Kyungsoo can get another word in.

 

 

 

 

Jongin’s driving is still as scary as ever, all jerky movements and sudden starts like he’s expecting the car to teleport with him.

It makes Chanyeol almost as sick as the worry in his stomach does. Kyungsoo stares out the window, trying to make sense of where they’re headed. The drive takes a long time. Jongin takes them far past the city limits into the outskirts of Seoul where the air clears up and they can see the stars clearly above.

“Where are we?” Chanyeol asks, rubbing his sore shoulder when they finally park the car. Jongin shrugs, unbuckling his seatbelt and motioning them to follow.

Out here there are no lights. The country side is dark and peaceful in a way that’s unsettling to the core. Chanyeol can barely see two feet in front of him but that’s the whole point of their fifth companion who’s standing outside an ominous underground passage waiting for them.

“Surprise,” Jongdae presents with a smile and Kyungsoo takes a solid three steps back.

“Baekhyun?” Chanyeol breaths. He wants so badly to burn up the field in front of him to catch a glimpse of Baekhyun’s face but no fire in him stirs.

“Shine bright like a diamond,” Baekhyun sing songs, illuminating the air with a snap.

“Fancy,” Chanyeol scoffs, trying not to sound too relieved. Out of all of them, Baekhyun’s power has always been the only one untraceable by Headquarters, not that it matters anymore with Jongdae’s previous stunt.

“What happened to the wedding?” Kyungsoo asks, but it’s clearly the wrong question to ask with the way the air goes stale between them.

“It’s getting pushed back for a little white,” Baekhyun muses. The light bursts into the darkness, shedding the gloominess in a flash. There’s a sparkling gleam on his left ring finger that Chanyeol sees him smile into. “But hopefully with all of us back together, this won’t take long at all to fix.”

“All of us,” Kyungsoo echoes longingly.

Baekhyun takes a few steps forward, shining like a beacon into the distance. Chanyeol moves to follow him out of habit if nothing else when Kyungsoo’s fixes a firm hand on his shoulder.

“Baekhyun,” Kyungsoo says. He hasn’t moved an inch into the passageway at all. “Where are we going?”

“I thought it was obvious,” Baekhyun says with a Cheshire grin. “We’re going rogue.”

He takes a side step and beyond him, the tunnel is illuminated to show a set of double steel doors.

_“Welcome home,”_ Chanyeol hears Lu Han murmur inside their minds. Jongdae and Jongin move forward to stand beside him.

They’re the words Chanyeol has waited so long to hear, but it doesn’t feel right. The circumstance bringing them all back together is suspicious. Unfinished business is one thing, but Chanyeol had seen him fall that day. He saw him crash into the pavement below, all broken limbs and twisted angles.

He takes a step back. “I need minute,” Chanyeol says as evenly as he can. Jongdae nods with understanding and Baekhyun casts a light onto the ceiling for Chanyeol to finds his way out. “Don’t be too long,” he advises.

Chanyeol climbs back up to ground level. The air out here is clearer, but it does nothing for him. Chanyeol mills around, wondering if it’s too late to run. Kyungsoo appears a moment later, dusting off his shoulders. He locks eyes with Chanyeol and frowns. Lu Han as it appears is not the only one who has picked up increased telepathy over the years.

“Where are you going?” Kyungsoo questions. His fingers dig into Chanyeol’s arm, solidly anchoring him to the spot. His grip is strong, like he’s already settled back into his powers after so long. Chanyeol in comparison can’t even find the sparks to ignite himself.

Chanyeol thinks of Gayeon alone in the house, out in the backyard watering the calla lily bulbs that have yet to bloom. There’s a chance Chanyeol could warn her ahead of time to run and hide before all of this goes up and never settles back down. Maybe Lu Han could do something. With Jongin’s teleportation being tracked there’s no quicker way to reach her.

Chanyeol sighs. In the evening air, his breath exits in fog, trailing up into the stars like smoke.

“I asked you a question,” Kyungsoo says softly. He could have asked Chanyeol for the world and it wouldn’t have mattered. Chanyeol’s weak like that, but every bit of Kyungsoo, every promise, every tease of skin and every ounce of faith he gives makes Chanyeol strong.

“Are you coming or not?” Kyungsoo asks. He leans forward to press his lips against Chanyeol’s, breath warm against the cold night air. Chanyeol presses back, tilting his head to deepen their kiss. Even after all this time Kyungsoo tastes the same, a little minty, earthen and comforting. It’s bold, the way Kyungsoo slips his tongue into Chanyeol’s mouth and it ignites Chanyeol’s body in a way he hasn’t felt in so long. Kyungsoo is his flint, has been all along, and with every motion they make sparks scatter to the floor. They break apart breathlessly and Chanyeol’s hand, warm and heavy, reaches up to cup Kyungsoo’s neck.

It’s not 2008 anymore.

Chanyeol isn’t a bum arsonist with a knack for explosives, but 2020 is a long time later to make things right when they really shouldn’t have been wrong in the first place. In their minds they’ve buried the incident six feet under, patted the dirt with a guilt-ridden shovel and moved on, but it’s telling the way a slight shift in the dirt can send them all scrambling back together.

This time, when they regroup as eleven it’ll be to bury their sins, their ghosts down to burn in hell. Corpses transformed into ash have no room to wiggle.

The gun in his hand feels wrong, weighted and significant as Chanyeol draws it out from his jacket and tosses it to the ground. The flames lick out of his palms burning his gloves cleans off as they illuminate the night sky into a pale, rusty gold.

The hunt is on.


End file.
